


Means

by rainbowbetty



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dean is in Hell, Demon Blood, F/M, Revenge, Sam is adorable when he's being manipulated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-29
Updated: 2013-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-27 09:13:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/660275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowbetty/pseuds/rainbowbetty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Revenge wasn't something Sam started out wanting, but it quickly became the only thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Means

She had a lot of work to do with Sam. Fortunately, he'd given her a lot to work with.

She stoked his need for revenge like a flame.

It was the thing he woke up with and the thing he went to bed with at night. It was what he lived on until Ruby pushed food at him and reminded him that he was  _still human, stupid,_  and that he had to have something in his stomach besides demon blood and alcohol. He growled at her and shouted, punched walls. Threw things, hoping to break something – the room, her, himself. Anything.

He wanted it all broken, because it was broken.

He hurt in a way that it shouldn't have been possible to hurt, and he screamed into his fist rather than let himself feel the extent of it, burying it instead under layers of rage and self-hate, determined that he didn't deserve to feel anything because it couldn't compare to whatever Hell Dean was going through.

Ruby shook her head at him and used his shame as a weapon (as a tool), putting words to his own half-formed thoughts that always started with  _pathetic_ and ended with  _undeserving_.

"Look at what you're letting yourself turn into," she said scornfully. "You think this is what Dean wanted? When his last words to you were to  _keep fighting,_ Sam?"

It drove the hurt deep until it throbbed in time with his own heartbeat, entwined into his soul like an unrelenting blackness, indistinguishable from himself. And when he pushed Ruby hard against the wall so that her head cracked and her mouth broke into a wide, pleased smile under his lips, he squeezed his eyes shut and let the growing blackness block out everything else.

 

* * *

He could feel her heart racing under his chest, the way he had her pinned against the mattress with her arm held out over her head and the knife poised to make the cut, and god, he wanted this. He hated it and wanted it so bad, and it was  _wrong,_  so wrong, but so many things were wrong now and he couldn't quite bring himself to care.

His hand wasn't shaking, he lied to himself. And if it was, it wasn't because of this.

"Do it," she whispered, and he felt himself tipping over the edge of a cliff, giving himself over to the blackness and hate and  _freak-monster-wrong-evil_  thing inside of him. It didn't matter, nothing mattered. Dean was gone, and he had to fight back. This was fighting. It was power.

He heard her gasp as the knife drew blood, felt her body arch up against his, and he gave himself over to it, responding with pure want and need, taking everything from her that she was willing to give and still demanding more.

"Sam!" she gasped finally, pushing him back and away, but she was pleased, he could see it, the way she looked at him. He wasn't sure why it made his skin crawl, made him want to throw up. As if  _he_  had been violated in the worst possible way.

He wanted this, he told himself. Wanted her. Wanted this. Or if that wasn't exactly true, at least it was a means to an end.

 


End file.
